


98.6

by Pthithia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Implied Combeferre/Courfeyrac - Freeform, Multi, Sickfic, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:05:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6818584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pthithia/pseuds/Pthithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why the fuck are you calling at this god forsaken hour?"</p>
<p>"Look, I can't get into it now, but I'm up with Gavroche and he's sick and I can't reach Combeferre, where's Enjolras??"</p>
<p>"Hold on, he's probably still in the office, I swear, he never stops working. I can't get him to come to bed when it's snowing and midnight but-"</p>
<p>"Grantaire! I have a suffocating child on my lap! Can we do this some other time??" Courfeyrac snapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	98.6

Courfeyrac sighed, rolling off the couch again as Gavroche’s tiny voice called for him. The apartment was dark and warm, almost stifling, blankets and pillows strewn all over the front room.

As Gavroche’s bedroom was clear across the apartment from Courfeyrac's room, he'd been sleeping on the couch for the last two nights. Sleeping, of course, was an exaggerated term, as he'd probably gotten about three hours of sleep a night tending to the little boy.

It had happened that Wednesday, when Gavroche came home from school with a little sniffle and cough. Then the first snowstorm of that winter had hit, and now he and the rest of the city were snowed in, and Gavroche’s "little earache" had evolved into some monstrous form of hell keeping the kid and Courfeyrac up all hours of the night.

Courfeyrac paused by the window on his way to the bedroom, pressing his palm against the cold glass covered by heavy drapes. Some of the frost melted off, revealing the heavy white blanket over the city reflecting the ugly yellow light of street lamps. The sky was dark, snow falling again, even the stars absent in the inky sky. The clock on the side table showed it was almost two in the morning.

Gavroche coughed and called again. Courfeyrac picked a quilt off the ground and draped it over his shoulders, shuffling into the bedroom.

"Hey kiddo, what's up?"

As his eyes adjusted to the bright green nightlight plugged into the wall, Courfeyrac could see his little boy strewn on the bed, damp with sweat, blue eyes watering as he coughed again, using his whole body.

He moved quickly, dropping the quilt and reaching for the boy. As soon as his hands touched him Gavroche began to squirm, coughing and trying to move away. His skin was on fire. It had gotten worse since that evening.

Feeling his heartbeat pick up, Courfeyrac pulled Gavroche’s damp pajama top off, a long-sleeved blue thing decorated with French flags (obviously a gift from Enjolras), throwing it in the direction of the hamper.

"Are you hot? Let's get this shirt off, cool you down," Courfeyrac muttered, almost to himself as Gavroche struggled against him. He couldn't see how he was so warm, as the last time he checked it was seven degrees outside, and dropping.

Another coughing fit seized the boy, and Courfeyrac could feel the effort of his tiny body, the choked off sound of his throat. He whimpered and buried his face in Courfeyrac's shirt, something he had never done before.

Taking a deep breath, Courfeyrac scooped him up, Gavroche squirming again as he fought against the heat.

"C'mon kiddo, I've got you," Courfeyrac whispered, carrying him back into the front room, mind racing a mile a minute. What should he do? Call the pediatrician? The emergency room? Combeferre?

Settling on the last one, he swiped his phone off the coffee table, bouncing the five year old on his hip as he dialed the familiar number.

It rang five times before going to voicemail. Cursing, he dialed again. No answer.

Starting to really panic as Gavroche coughed again, struggling to breathe, he hit the next contact on his phone and prayed.

_"Hello?"_ the groggy voice asked.

"Grantaire?" Courfeyrac asked, surprised, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled Gavroche closer.

_"Why the fuck are you calling at this god forsaken hour?"_ Grantaire groaned back.

"Look, I can't get into it now, but I'm up with Gavroche and he's sick and I can't reach Combeferre, where's Enjolras??"

_"Hold on, he's probably still in the office, I swear, he never stops working. I can't get him to come to bed when it's snowing and midnight but-"_

" _Grantaire!_ I have a suffocating child on my lap! Can we do this some other time??" Courfeyrac snapped.

_"Right, right, sorry. Here you go."_

He could hear a brief conversation on the other line, and then suddenly Enjolras’ voice crackled over. _"What's wrong?"_

"Oh, Enj, thank god, I can't reach 'Ferre and Gav's really sick and I don't know what to do, he's been sick for days and now he can't breathe, I tried taking him to the doctor but all we got was some medicine to-"

_"Courf,"_ Enjolras said firmly. _"Calm down. Combeferre is snowed at the hospital, he's probably working overtime, okay? Listen to me. I'm not a doctor. I want you to hang up the phone and calm down. Everything will be fine. Call Joly and tell him what's going on, okay? He's at home now, so he'll pick up. Understand?"_

Courfeyrac sighed. "Okay. Okay, thank you. I have to go."

_"Goodnight, Courf."_

And the line cut off.

He fumbled with the phone for a second, Gavroche’s burning skin sticking to his shirt as he paced down the hall.

*

Joly startled awake at the shrill piercing of his phone. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Bossuet stirred next to him.

"What the fuck?" Bossuet grumbled as Joly climbed over him, groping for the blinding source of light.

"It's Courf," Joly said, reaching for his abandoned boxers.

"Well, go into the hall," Bossuet yawned. "Don't wake up 'Chetta."

Joly shut the door behind him, shivering in the cold. He was going to catch pneumonia in his own home. He answered the phone.

"Hello? What's wrong?"

Across the city, Courfeyrac was holding Gavroche in his arms and clinging to the phone while frantically Googling the boy's symptoms, the bright white light practically blinding him. "Joly? Joly, oh my god, I'm so sorry but I'm with Gavroche and I can't call 'Ferre but Gav is really sick, it was just a little cough but now he can't seem to breathe and I don't have anything to give him and he's got a horrible fever and I don't know if I should call an ambulance but-"

"Courfeyrac." Joly walked into the kitchen. "Calm down. Did you go to the doctor?"

"A couple days ago, but he just gave us this pink amoxicillin crap for his earache but it's not doing anything-"

"Let him cough for me."

"What?"

"Put the phone to his mouth so he can cough," Joly said, firm and calm and not at all his usual panicking self.

Courfeyrac put down the laptop and transferred the phone just in time for Gavroche to start again, the deep vibrations of his chest straining his little body, the sound of air attempting and failing to whistle down his windpipe.

"God, Joly, what if-"

"Courfeyrac, it's the croup, he has the croup," Joly said, pulling on a shirt. He ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. "Where are you?"

"The hallway."

"Listen to me. I want you to go into the bathroom and shut the door. Turn on the water so that it's warm - not hot, mind you, just comfortably warm. Let it run until it creates a steam and sit with him in your lap. The moist air will help clear the fluid in his chest, okay?"

"What is it?" Courfeyrac asked, rushing to do as instructed.

"It's a viral infection that targets kids. It's a little like pneumonia, but not usually deadly. I said _not usually_ ," Joly repeated at Courfeyrac's gasp of horror. "He will be fine. You will be fine. Just do the steam thing and his lungs will clear up, you'll see."

"Okay, I am, right now," Courfeyrac said, swiping a towel off the floor.

"Call me back in an hour, okay? I'll be waiting."

"I will, thank you," Courfeyrac rushed out before hanging up and tossing the phone aside, tugging Gavroche’s little socks off.

The bright lights in the bathroom hurt Gavroche’s eyes, and he turned his face into Courfeyrac's neck, whimpering slightly.

In the mirror they made quite the couple, Courfeyrac's wild black curls sticking out everywhere, circles under his green eyes. He'd never looked so awful.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he switched on the tap in the big tub and climbed in, sitting on the edge with the little boy on his lap. As soon as the hot water hit their legs and began to soak their pajama bottoms Gavroche really began complaining, twisting away from the heat and Courfeyrac's warm body.

"Shh, c'mon kiddo, I know it's yucky, but soon this steam will make us feel much better, okay? Just sit here with me," Courfeyrac murmured, rubbing a soothing hand along the little boy's back.

"I want Combeferre," he wheezed, his body convulsing into another round of coughs.

"I know," Courfeyrac sighed, pressing his lips to Gavroche's damp blonde hair. "I want Combeferre, too."

*

"Courf! Look!" Gavroche shouted, jumping across the pillows to bounce in front of the window. He yanked the drapes aside, revealing the snow blanketed world outside, soft flakes drifting down, unlike the harsh flurry from early morning. A little sun peeked through the clouds, flooding the apartment with alien sunshine.

"Look at that, it's snowing again," Courfeyrac said, smiling on the ground amid blankets and pillows and wet towels and Gavroche’s stuffed elephant, where they both fell asleep at almost six in the morning. He was so impossibly tired, the realization that it was almost noon making his eyes even heavier. The relief, however, at Gavroche’s 98.6, bright eyes and cleared airways was enough to make even him giddy that morning.

"Yeah, let's go have a snowball fight!" Gavroche shouted, taking a running leap and landing on the couch.

Courfeyrac laughed and shoved him back on the floor. "It's too cold to go outside. Finish your breakfast."

"It's never too cold for me," Gavroche bragged, tiny hands on his narrow hips.

"Yeah, well it's too cold for me. I can't take this hair out in that snow; imagine what that would look like!" Courfeyrac gestured to his wild, bird's-nest hair, normally so neat and carefully styled. Gavroche snorted and tossed a pillow at him.

"You silly. C'mon, let's go!"

He jumped up and ran into his bedroom.

"Okay, but just for a second! And we're going up to the roof, so put on your big coat, please!" Courfeyrac called after him, standing and taking their plates. His phone suddenly lit up, the familiar strains of music blaring into the couch cushions.

"Hello?" he answered, walking into the kitchen to set down the remnants of their breakfast.

_"Hey,"_ Enjolras said over the phone, sounding amused. _"It's me. I realize you may not recognize me as it is not two in the morning and you are not holding a suffocating child, but I assure you that I am one and the same."_

"Right, right." Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "What do you need?"

Enjolras paused for a second. _"How's Gavroche doing?"_

"He's fine. What do you actually need, dear leader?" Courfeyrac asked, laughing.

_"It's not like I don't care about him!"_ Enjolras protested. _"... But I was wondering if Feuilly had ever emailed you those class case files."_

"Mmm, let the flash drive run through the washing machine again, no?" Courfeyrac teased. He could practically hear Enjolras rolling his eyes. "Calm down, mon ami, I have them. I'll send them now."

_"Thanks. So how did things turn out last night?"_

"Alright. Joly knew just what to do and he's back to normal this morning."

_"You're welcome, Monsieur-"_

_"Enjolras, stop being so self-important,"_ Courfeyrac heard Grantaire teasing in the background. There was a slight scuffle, and Enjolras cried out. Suddenly flustered, he gave a hurried _"Gottagobye."_ and was gone.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes at his stupid-in-love friends and hung up, turning around just in time to see Gavroche fly out of the bedroom in his gigantic puffy blue coat, French pajamas and little boots.

"Let's go," he said with a face as serious as a man's, struggling to zip up the coat.

Smiling, Courfeyrac assisted him and then grabbed his own jacket and shoes, remembering to slip his keys into his pocket as he held the door open for his tiny charge.

The air on the roof was cold and clear, Courfeyrac sinking almost to his knees in snow. Gavroche would have been up to his chest, but he was so small and lightweight he simply flew over top of it, laughing.

His little hand scooped up some of the soft white powder, and before he knew what was happening Courfeyrac was pelted with a cold ball of wet slush, melting into his hair.

"Hey, you little snot!" Courfeyrac shouted. Gavroche laughed, his voice clear and sunny, and he took off like a little bird as Courfeyrac broke through the snow after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I wrote something.
> 
> I don't even know what this is, I was just itching to write so this was my warm up. There's so much other stuff I need to be doing, sigh.
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated. I'll get back to writing constructive plot now x_x


End file.
